Nerkish and Richard C Meyer
by Richard C. Meyer
Summary: Richard C. Meyer spends the day with his old buddy Nerkish who is kind of his god right now and together they have some...fun. REVIEW OR NERKINA WILL KILL HERSELF!


"Trust me?" Nerkish asks softly.

We are at his place because I'm homeless still. His room. It's fitting for this giant's size. It looks like Frankenstein's lab too.

I nod. He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two round, shiny, silver balls, linked with a thick black thread.

"These are new," he says emphatically.

I look questioningly up at him.

"I am going to put these inside you, and then I'm going to spank you, not for punishment, but for your pleasure and mine." He pauses, gauging my wide-eyed reaction.

Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner Nerkish god is doing the dance of the seven veils.

"Then we'll fuck, and if you're still awake, I'll impart some information about proper video making techniques. Agreed?"

He's asking my permission! Breathlessly, I nod. I'm incapable of speech.

"Good boy. Open your mouth."

Mouth?

"Wider."

Very gently, he puts the balls in my mouth.

"They need lubrication. Suck," he orders, his voice soft.

The balls are cold, smooth, surprisingly heavy, and metallic tasting. My dry mouth pools with saliva as my tongue explores the unfamiliar objects. Nerkish's gray gaze does not leave mine. Holy hell, this is turning me on. I squirm slightly.

"Keep still, Richard C. Meyer," he warns.

"Stop." He tugs them from my mouth. Moving toward the bed, he throws the duvet aside and sits down on the edge.

"Come here."

I stand in front of him.

"Now turn round, bend down, and grasp your ankles."

I blink at him, and his expression darkens.

"Don't hesitate," he admonishes me softly, an undercurrent in his voice, and he pops the balls in his mouth.

Fuck, this is sexier than oogling the large breasts of women much younger than me. No wonder relationships with women had never worked out. It wasn't that I was difficult. It was the fact I'm gay. Gay for Nerkish. (But yet can't resists breasts. Maybe I am bi? Because buff guys totally turn me on too.)

I follow his orders immediately. Jeez, can I touch my ankles? I'm so out of shape now that I'm no longer serving. But I find I can, with ease. The t-shirt slides up my back, exposing my behind. Thank heavens I have retained my whitie tighties, but I suspect I won't for long.

He places his hand reverently on my backside and very softly caresses it with his whole hand. With my eyes open, I can see his legs through mine, nothing else. I close my eyes tightly as he gently moves my whitie tighties to the side and slowly runs his finger up and down my butt crack. My body braces itself in a heady mix of wild anticipation and arousal. He slides one finger inside me, and he circles it deliciously slowly. Oh, it feels good. I moan.

His breathing halts, and I hear him gasp as he repeats the motion. He withdraws his finger and very slowly inserts the objects, one slow, delicious ball at a time. I cough.

They're body temperature, warmed by our collective mouths. It's a curious feeling. Once they're inside me, I can't really feel them - but then again I know they're there.

He straightens my underwear and leans forward, and his lips softly kiss my behind.

"Stand up," he orders, and shakily I get to my feet.

Oh! Now I can feel them... sort of. He grasps my hips to steady me while I re-establish my equilibrium.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice stern.

"Yes." My answer is feather soft.

"Turn round." I turn and face him.

The balls pull downward and involuntarily I clench around them. The feeling startles me but not in a bad way.

"How does that feel?" he asks.

"Strange."

"Strange good or strange bad?"

"Strange good," I confess, blushing.

"Good." There's a trace of humor lurking in his eyes.

"I want you to grab that issue of Kim & Kim for me from my shelf. Go and fetch it for me please."

Oh.

"And when you come back, I shall put you across my knee. Think about that, Richard C. Meyer."

That comic? He wants it - now - why?

As I leave the bedroom, it becomes abundantly clear why he wants me to walk around

\- as I do, the balls weigh down inside me, massaging me internally. It's such a weird feeling and not entirely unpleasant. In fact, my breathing accelerates as I stretch up for the comic from the shelf, and I gasp. Cough!... I may have to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex.

He's watching me carefully when I return.

"Thank you," he says as he takes the comic from me.

Slowly, he pulls a foil packet from inside the comic and sets both off to the side, the foil packet ready and waiting, like me. And I know he's doing this to build the anticipation. My heart has picked up a beat. He turns his bright gray gaze to mine.

"Come. Stand beside me. Like last time."

I sidle up to him, my blood thrumming through my body, and this time... I'm excited.

Aroused.

"Ask me," he says softly.

I frown. Ask him what?

"Ask me," his voice is slightly harder.

What? How was your water? What does he want?

"Ask me, Richard C. Meyer. I won't say it again." And there's such a threat implicit in his words, and it dawns on me. He wants me to ask him to spank me.

Holy shit. He's looking at me expectantly, his eyes growing colder. Shit.

"Spank me, please... Sir," I whisper.

He closes his eyes momentarily, savoring my words. Reaching up, he grasps my left hand and he tugs me over his knees. I fall instantly, and he steadies me as I land in his lap.

My heart is in my mouth as his hand gently strokes my behind. I'm angled across his lap again so that my torso rests on the bed beside him. He clasps the nape of my neck to hold me in place. He gently pulls my head back.

"I want to see your face while I spank you, Richard C. Meyer," he murmurs, all the while softly rubbing my backside.

His hand moves down between the cheeks of my behind, and he pushes against my sex, and the full feeling is... I moan. Oh, the sensation is exquisite.

"This is for pleasure, Richard C. Meyer, mine and yours," he whispers softly.

He lifts his hand and brings it down in a resounding slap against the junction of my thighs, my behind. The balls are forced forward inside me, and I'm lost in a quagmire of sensation. The stinging across my behind, the fullness of the balls inside me, and the fact that he's holding me down. I screw my face up as my faculties attempt to absorb all these foreign feelings. I note somewhere in my brain that he's not smacked me as hard as last time. He caresses my backside again, trailing his palm across my skin and over my underwear.

Why's he not removed my whitie tighties? Then his palm disappears, and he brings it down again. I groan as the sensation spreads. He starts a pattern: left to right and then down.

The down ones are the best. Everything moving forward, inside me... and in between each smack he caresses me, kneads me - so I am massaged inside and out. It's such a stimulating, erotic feeling, and for some reason, because this is on my terms, I don't mind the pain.

It's not painful as such - well it is, but not unbearable. It's somehow manageable, and yes pleasurable... even. I groan. Yes, I can do this.

He pauses as he slowly peels my whitie tighties down my legs. I writhe on his legs, not because I want to escape the blows, but I want... more, release, something. His touch against my sensitized skin is all sensuous tingle. It's overwhelming, and he starts again. A few soft slaps then building up, left to right and down. Oh, the downs, I groan.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 **Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Be sure to leave a review! Or...I could leave one myself I guess...**

 **I'm trying to become a legit published writer but I'm having a hard time catching a break so I thought I'd do this as a template to practice on! With some more work I'm sure I'll write something original one day!**


End file.
